Inbossom my head forth, lead me into silent poetry

Wretchedness leaves my eyes desired

As labouring claims those golden hairs

Come appetise my tongue to heavenly moistures

Do lend a breast to gaze upon

Have in summers past all pleasures

Or be them winded in my forehead (fill your dowry needs)

Sleepless (the sound of crashing waves)

Make thyself aroused to a flood of tears

In streaks of day, when owls do cry

And fables tread the primrose path

All that bares in fruit

Sits under the bough that blossoms

Coral lips with a pleasing tale

Touches as a flower with frost

Have like twenty kisses and bide where the billows spoke



Harrow me up with glutton lips, make good the yeast

Endeaver thyself as a whore

Then I'll take towards no pity

O sweet dames like infants of the spring